


Horns of a Dilemma

by bookjunkiecat



Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas at 221B Baker Street, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, From friends to engaged in 2.7 seconds, M/M, Mrs Hudson Meddles, Pre-Relationship, Sherlock is fond of Watson, Sherlock wears reindeer antlers, Sherlock's had therapy, avoiding the 9 million minefields inherent in getting these two together, like doing a zesty mazurka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Mrs Hudson tries to set Sherlock up with a handsome guest at the Christmas party. Instead it forces a long-overdue conversation between John and Sherlock.
Relationships: John/Sherlock, Johnlock
Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558120
Comments: 28
Kudos: 270
Collections: Kat's Johnlock Xmas 2019





	Horns of a Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kat for the prompts. I scarcely used the Reindeer Antlers XD

“Sherlock! Feeling horny, mate?”

Sherlock’s blank look made Lestrade laugh. Annoying. He walked away without responding to the pedestrian ribaldry.

“Sherlock, dear,” Mrs Hudson said breathlessly, “Mrs Turner’s married ones have just arrived and they’ve brought a lovely friend of theirs--I think his name is Simon. Or maybe Cyrus. I couldn’t quite understand--”

“Yes thank you, Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock interrupted, moving to leave. 

She grabbed his arm, wrinkling his sleeve. Sherlock huffed silently in irritation. This was his best shirt. But Mrs Hudson made his morning tea and he mustn’t be too rude. “He’s simply lovely. I think you’d hit it off.” She adjusted the reindeer antlers he was wearing, “Although perhaps take those off first, dear. You’re sweet to wear them without me insisting, but they don’t quite display you to your best advantage.”

“Why should you think that I’d care if he’s lovely or not?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“I heard you on the phone, telling your therapist you were ready to date. Oh don’t look at me like that, dear, I wasn’t eavesdropping, you had the door open and you weren’t making any effort to keep quiet.”   
  


Her reasoning was specious, but Sherlock shrugged. Mrs Hudson was a law unto herself. And she was not incorrect, he hadn’t made a special effort to ensure privacy. “Are you planning on acting as my matchmaker? Because first, no. Second, I don’t need your help.” He raised his chin, “I have someone in mind.”

Her look made him uncomfortable. “Oh sherlock.”

“What?” he began, but was derailed when a familiar crow alerted him to John and Watson’s arrival. Trying not to look too eager, Sherlock swooped across the room, plucking his goddaughter from John’s arms before Molly could reach for her. “John,” he said, trying not to sound too pleased, “You’re here.”

John’s smile was bright, but fatigue lingered behind it. Watson was teething and had recently gotten over a cold; neither of them were sleeping very much. “Sorry we’re late,” he apologized, slipping out of his coat. “It’s impossible to leave the house on time these days with this one.” He chucked his daughter’s chin and she chuckled around her dummy, ducking her head onto Sherlock’s shoulder. His eyes moved up to Sherlock’s head, and his smile became more relaxed, eyes warming, “Hey...you’re wearing the antlers.”

“Astute observation, John,” Sherlock said, but he smiled, making it clear he was teasing.

John had been one of the last to arrive, and the party, small though it was, was merry. Sherlock, with a grizzling Watson perched on one hip, moved through the party, doing his best to be a good host. He liked all of his guests individually, or in small doses, but social gatherings weren’t really an area where he was comfortable. However, he and Ella had discussed ways he could make changes in his life, and socializing more was one of them. That he had an ulterior motive for the gathering wasn’t something Ella was privy to, but he didn’t plan on bothering her with that detail.

Blooming as he was wont to do in company, John soon had a cup of Mrs Hudson’s lethal punch in hand, circulating through the room, greeting their friends. As he normally did, John gravitated to Sherlock’s side before long. Sherlock couldn’t help but feel pleased at John’s clear preference for his company. It wasn’t just that he had been holding John’s daughter, either, since she had finally been abducted by Molly, who was sitting in John’s chair with Watson on her lap, attempting to feed her bites of cheesecake.

“It’s nice to see everyone back here,” John remarked, looking around thoughtfully, “Practically looks like the old days.”

“Some things have changed,” Sherlock began delicately.

“Yeah,” John agreed, “Rosie’s a bit of a new accessory.”

That hadn’t been what he meant. “Mmm.”

Mrs Hudson fluttered up, clearly inebriated. “Sherlock, have you talked to Simon yet? I’ll introduce you.”

“Who’s Simon?” John asked.

“Friend of Mrs Turner’s married ones,” Sherlock said, before Mrs Hudson could gush about the man. “Not interesting.”

“Thanks,” came a dry voice from just behind him. John coughed out a laugh, Mrs Hudson sighed his name as if vexed but unsurprised, and Sherlock swallowed irritation. 

“Hello,” he said without enthusiasm. “Don’t mind me, I’m an arsehole.”

“So I’ve heard,” the aforementioned Simon retorted cheerfully. Sherlock looked at him with slightly more interest. “Patrick and Andy warned me.”

“Who?”

“Our neighbors,” John grinned at him with a fond quirk to his lips, “Lived next door for seven years?”

‘Our’ neighbors. Sherlock tucked that slip away to gloat over later. “Ah.”

John tucked his elbow fondly into Sherlock’s side, then stuck his hand out, “Hi, John Watson. Don’t mind my friend. None of the rest of us do.”

“Rude,” Sherlock remarked.

“Pot. Kettle.” John sparkled up at him. Sherlock smirked. Mrs Hudson, having wandered off to try and coerce a grumpy and obviously sleepy Watson into her arms, had left Simon behind. Sherlock could feel him looking between the two of them. 

“I’m familiar with your blog, John.”

A frown tugged between Sherlock’s brows. Not only was it rather forward of Simon to call John by his given name, but he was...smiling. Smiling very warmly at John, his hazel-green eyes admiring. Oh bollocks. Prepared to efficiently eviscerate the annoyingly handsome man making eyes at John, Sherlock found himself nonplussed by John stepping slightly into his side and putting an arm on his hip, “Our blog, really.”

Simon's eyes moved between them and his smile changed. Things were moving too fast for Sherlock to keep up, and any way  _ how _ could he be expected to concentrate with John’s thumb and fingers burning perfect circles onto his hip? Simon spoke, “Ah yes, the detective and his doctor. Sounds like a holiday romance novel.”

“Something like that,” John agreed. Sherlock stood mute as the two exchanged a few easy pleasantries before Simon nodded at them and wandered away. “Seems nice enough,” John said lightly. He still had his arm around Sherlock. “Oh,” he said, “Sorry, guess I can stop now he’s gone.”

Sherlock felt cold. “What was that?”

John tipped his head, “What was what?”   
  


“Were you…” it felt ridiculous, but true, “Were you warning him off me?”

John hesitated, “I...I just thought…”

“That you’d make sure no one else was able to express an interest in me despite not wanting me for yourself?” Sherlock felt absurdly on the edge of tears. His chest hurt and suddenly he wanted everyone gone.

John took one look at his face and pulled him into Sherlock’s bedroom, where he only paused briefly upon seeing a slumbering Watson curled among the coats. Preceding into the loo, he shut the connecting door. Voice low, he asked, “What do you mean, not want you myself?”

“Drop it, John.” Sherlock was too tired for...whatever this was.

“No,” John’s face worked, eyes pinned on Sherlock, burning into him, “I won’t--think it’s past time we cleared something up. Are you romantically interested in anyone? Sexually? Men, women, little green monsters?”

“I’m gay,” Sherlock snapped, then amended, “theoretically. I am, as Mycroft so snidely pointed out in the past, a virgin.”

The dilation of John’s pupils must mean something, it must.

Licking his lips, John spoke hoarsely, “Anyone you’re interested in, in particular?” Before Sherlock could answer, he ventured, “Me, by any chance?”

Sherlock stood speechless, finally he breathed, “John Watson, you utter  _ arse. _ I died for you.  _ Twice. I took down an entire criminal organization to keep you safe.  _ I  _ killed a man _ for you. I’m in love with you, you complete idiot!” By the time the last words left his lips, his voice had risen stridently, and they were followed almost immediately by the unhappy wail of Watson from the bedroom. 

“Shite,” John breathed, still not looking away from Sherlock, “I should--”

“Er, John, mate?”

“Fuck off, Graham!” Sherlock yelled.

There was a muffled giggle from the lounge. 

“Er, yeah, right, it’s just. Um, Molly and I are going to take Rosie and move the party downstairs to Speedy’s. So. Y’know. The flat will be empty. If, uh, you need some space.” After a fractional pause--during which John’s intense stare never wavered from Sherlock’s hot face--there was a muffled argument, then Lestrade spoke again, “Molly said to tell you she’s moving all the coats...if you need, the, er, the bed. For anything.”

“Ta, Greg,” John said, face suddenly crinkled with suppressed laughter. For no apparent reason, Sherlock felt an answering swell of answering amusement and they muffled laughter until they heard the flat door close. Snorting with the force of giggles leaving him, John leaned against the sink, grinning at Sherlock. “For fuck’s sake. They all think we’re about to be up here shagging like monkeys, don’t they?”

“I  _ am _ exceptionally desirable, John,” Sherlock said snootily, and they started giggling again. Finally their laughter petered out breathlessly, and he felt awkwardness return. Now that he’d shouted his love confession at John this could go one of two ways. One, John would gently let him down and slowly distance himself from Sherlock’s life. Two--

John’s lips on his silenced Sherlock’s thoughts effectively. Unable to help himself, he sank into the kiss, longing rising sharply behind his ribs. He’d longed for so many years to know what kissing John Watson would be like. Now that he knew he wasn’t certain he would be able to live the remainder of his life without it.

John’s hands slid warmly, firmly up Sherlock’s sides, lighting up every nerve ending until Sherlock was on fire. He gasped helplessly into John’s mouth, the hands he hadn’t even been aware he’d wrapped around John’s biceps curling with need.

“I’m not shagging you,” John said, and Sherlock’s euphoria evaporated. “It’s your first time and we’ve got a boatload of shit to figure out first. Our first time won’t be some hasty fumble with our friends just downstairs.”

Sherlock’s emotions bounced right back up into the stratosphere. “You’d...be willing to have a physical relationship? With me?”

In answer, John stepped closer, settling his groin against Sherlock, letting him feel the weight and press of his very obvious erection. Sliding possessive fingers up into his curls, he brought Sherlock’s mouth to his, swiped his lower lip delicately with his own, pulled him into a searing kiss, slowly letting go. His teeth tugged a bit at Sherlock’s lower lip, drawing a helpless whimper of need from him. “I’ll take you any way I can get you, sexy.”

Sherlock shivered, “John, I fear for my ability to remain vertical if you’re going to talk to me like that.”

John’s smile was filthy, “I like to hear it.” He brushed Sherlock’s curls off his face, eyes hungry. “I’ve got seven years worth of compliments burning my lips. Can’t wait to unleash ‘em all.”

“Sounds like it may take some time,” Sherlock managed, unable to keep from rocking against him a little. “You should move back in.”

John’s laugh was breathless, and mixed up with a groan, “Just like that, eh?”

“We moved in together within twenty-four hours of meeting the first time.”

“I didn’t have a daughter then,” John pointed out ruefully, “a toddler changes things.”

“Watson needs two caregivers,” Sherlock said in return, careful not to say ‘parent,’ lest it remind John of Mary. “This way she has three in the house, with Mrs Hudson.” He smiled sanctimoniously, “It’s in her best interests.”

“You manipulative bastard,” John laughed in delight. “I love you.”

Sherlock held still, breath shaky. _He’d_ said it, but John hadn’t said it in return until now. How seriously had he meant it?

John stilled, eyeing him. “I never did tell you, did I? I do, Sherlock. I love you so goddamn much.” John’s voice broke, and he took a gasping breath, holding Sherlock tighter. “Fuck, it feels  _ good _ to finally say that.”

Sherlock hid his face in John’s neck, wrapping him tightly in his arms, unsure what to do with the sudden flood of emotions unleashed at John’s words. “...I’m terribly afraid I’m going to become addicted to you, John.” He laughed a little, “More so than I already am.”

John cradled his face in his hands and pulled back enough to meet Sherlock’s eyes, gaze serious, though his mouth curled up, “The feeling is definitely mutual...guess it’s a good thing Simon was here after all, huh?”

“Simon who?”

John laughed, pulling him close, pressing kisses on his face, “God, I love you! I hope you’ll spend the rest of our lives driving me mad.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said, “I probably will.” He smirked, “You’re stuck with me forever, John Watson.”

“Let’s wait at least six months before we get engaged,” John joked, “Or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Sherlock said nothing, eyebrow arching smugly. 

John stared at him, “You bastard, you’ve already weighed all the data and know when I’m likely to propose, don’t you?”

Sherlock let his lips ghost over John’s, then trail lightly across the delicious smoothness of his jaw. Brushing his lips over John’s ear, he smiled at the shiver, which deepened when he used his most velvety tone, “John....what makes you think _ I _ won’t be the one proposing?”


End file.
